


hey neighbor!

by atsunosukes



Series: perhaps, probably, possibly... love [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: College, Fluff, M/M, Neighbors, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27816103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atsunosukes/pseuds/atsunosukes
Summary: in which akaashi, in an attempt to escape the wrath of his landlady for not paying rent, accidentally finds himself in his (cute) neighbor's apartment.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Tsukishima Kei
Series: perhaps, probably, possibly... love [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035372
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	hey neighbor!

**Author's Note:**

> _playlist[ here ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5OjWl60Q1xNrkFrMW7nYu4?si=WFhwm-iGTZ2sls_WGt7wpw) _

Normally, in situations it would require him to, Akaashi would hesitate. He would think over his actions. Analyze rationally. Formulate a roster of possible solutions and, from those solutions, pick the best one in the both logical and rational sense.

That’s if, he wasn’t chased down by his livid landlady.

It’s a scene straight from a horror movie. The main character, chased down by a wrathful spirit, chances upon the first door they see to escape but alas, the door is locked! Main Character proceed to pound on it desperately, with wide eyes and short breaths. To their horror it doesn’t open, and they turn and see the ugly, deformed face of the wrathful spirit. Cue a sudden loud drop in the music. A scream. A fast motion of the spirit dragging them away from their exit.

He turns his head from side to side, seeing if the landlady’s already on his floor. Akaashi thanks his lucky stars that they live on the fifth floor, in an apartment building with no elevator, and the landlady’s in her late fifties. Akaashi deduces she’s practically crawling toward the fourth floor because of old age, but then again, no one must underestimate the possible power of an angry, stingy old widow whose tenants are a week late in paying their rent.

He rocks back and forth on his heels as he stands impatiently in front of the door he practically pounded on earlier. He doesn’t know who lives here, but he doesn’t even bother. He just needs to hide from that landlady.

His ears perk at the familiar jiggle of keys that sounded like it came from the staircase.

“Oh shit.”

_Speaking of the devil._

In true horror movie fashion, he pounds at the door again, looking over and over from his shoulder. His fists shake in fear. His pupils are blown wide. His heartbeat is thrumming in his ears that effectively muffles all sound from this point forward.

He starts to think that there’s no one in the unit he’s knocking on. And that, just like those cheap thrill horror movies, he would turn to see the terrifying face of his livid landlady that would proceed to drag him, his roommate and their things out of their apartment. His chest clenches at the thought.

The jiggling of keys is louder now, coupled by quick footsteps that seem to come from the end of the hall.

Akaashi’s about to close his eyes now, ready to face inevitable death…

When the door he swore he almost broke with his knocking, opens.

Akaashi doesn’t bother to look at the person – his savior – that opened the door for him. He lets himself in, pushes past the person standing in front of the door and locks the door behind him.

“What the hell?” he hears the owner of the unit say.

Akaashi’s doesn’t mind him or even mind bothering to think if the owner’s confused, annoyed or both. His eyes are glued to the peephole to look at any sign that the landlady’s gone. “Don’t mind me,” he dismisses. “I’m just going to be here for five minutes, I _swear_.”

“I can fucking sue you for trespassing,” the owner threatens.

Akaashi is unfazed. He’s still squinting at the peephole. “Look, I won’t be long and I won’t bother you. Please carry on with what you’re doing and pretend that I’m not here.”

“Well, I can’t pretend you aren’t here when you’re looking suspicious in front of my door.”

“I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“ _Please_ do s – “

“Shh!”

The unfamiliar apartment falls to silence. Akaashi presses his ear to the door. The ominous jiggling of keys stops. Three loud knocks echo on the door next to the unit he’s in. He gulps. That’s _his_ unit.

The knocks are met with silence so the landlady screams his name. “Akaashi!” She knocks again, angrily this time. When no one answers her, Akaashi hears the keys again. Then the jiggling of his doorknob. After a moment of silence, the door slams. The landlady leaves with a huff, muttering under her breath. Akaashi tenses when he sees her worn slippers come to view as he looks at the peephole, but relaxes once he hears the jiggling of the keys fade away to silence.

He sighs.

“Are you done?”

Now, to face another problem at hand.

“Ye – “

Normally, Akaashi would, like a normal person would do, finish his sentence, apologize, explain himself, leave, give a peace offering later, and forget everything that ever happened.

But how, how, pray tell, would he act upon seeing a six-foot-tall blond, bespectacled stranger that knocked the words that he wanted to say out of him because…

_‘_ _Oh fuck, he's cute.’_

If you would call furrowed brows behind thick, black-rimmed glasses and anger-glossed honey irises and scowl-molded lips, cute… Akaashi would say yes in a heartbeat.

“Hey, trespasser, I would appreciate an explanation instead of gawking at me like an idiot.”

“Uh, sorry…” Akaashi trails off. “For intruding.” The scowl on his neighbor's face deepens. His arms cross in front of his chest. “A-and for staring.”

Neighbor sighs. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“Long story.” Akaashi resigns to telling him just that to get it over with. He doesn’t want to let his cute neighbor know that he and his roommate are both broke college students that don’t have money to pay rent. “Let’s just say the landlady’s out for my guts.”

Silence. Akaashi feels that Neighbor wants to dig deeper into the vague explanation he gave, but Neighbor purses his lips instead. The scowl fades.

Akaashi hates awkward silences the most.

“Anyway,” he begins, in an attempt to fill the awkward silence, to close the conversation then and there. “Thanks for letting me uh…” He can't find the correct word. Come in? Barge in? Crash for while? Escape the wrath of my evil landlady who's going to kill me the next time she sees me?

The answer is simpler than he thought as Neighbor fills in his thought. “Trespass?” He raises an eyebrow.

“You can say that.”

Again, with the awkward silence. Akaashi looks up at Neighbor. His arms, previously crossed over his chest, are settle on his hips. His scowl is gone and the corners of his lips are slightly upturned now. Akaashi could stare at Neighbor for an eternity, but reality settles in and he realizes that he has to leave.

“Well, I think I took up too much of you time,” he mumbles as he turns to leave. He reaches for the doorknob. “I’m going to take my leave now, thanks again.”

The lock clicks open. Temporary silence.

“At least tell me your name before you go.”

Akaashi freezes mid-step. Did he mishear it? “Sorry?”

Again, with the raise of blond eyebrow. “You wouldn’t want me to call you trespasser every time I see you, do you? Unless...”

“It’s… it’s Akaashi,” the latter blurts out. “You are?”

“Tsukishima Kei,” Neighbor – Tsukishima Kei – holds out his hand for Akaashi to shake. “Nice meeting you, trespasser.”

Akaashi, without a second thought or without protest of his new and slightly degrading nickname that he thought Tsukishima Kei promised not to call him, clasps the outstretched hand in his. It's warm and big and soft and envelops his smaller hand. The corners of his lips turn up, giving himself a fraction of a second longer to hold his hand. “Likewise, neighbor.”

* * *

“You… _what_?”

Akaashi’s groans are muffled against his hands pressed to his face. “Don’t make me repeat it again, Kuroo-san… it’s embarrassing as it is.”

Akaashi turns pink at the very thought that he barged into his neighbor’s – no – his _cute_ neighbor’s apartment in an attempt to escape the angry landlady. Meanwhile, Kuroo guffaws at his misfortune and slaps his hand across his knee comically to punctuate his amusement at the situation. His roommate further buries his face in his hands in shame.

“You really… fucking… ran away from that old geezer… then went inside a _stranger’s_ apartment?” his roommate struggles to say his sentence between his obnoxious laughs. He wipes the tears from his eyes. “What happened to rational and logical Philosophy student Akaashi- _senpai_?”

“I panicked, okay?” Akaashi defends. “And don’t call me _senpai_ , you’re literally a year older than I am.”

Kuroo laughs again and ruffles Akaashi’s hair. The latter nudges his hand away. He hates it when he does that.

“If you hadn’t gone away, I wouldn’t have had to run away from the landlady,” Akaashi mumbles. “You’d easily win her over with your smooth talking and then we’ll have a one-week – no – a two-week extension of our due date to pay the rent.”

Kuroo slings an arm over Akaashi. “Well, if I _were_ here, I’d miss my tutoring session with one of those snobby rich kids in my major. And I’d miss those glorious tips she’d give me after I tutor her, on top of the fee that I charge her.”

Sometimes, Akaashi thinks that his roommate is lucky he’s both good-looking _and_ intelligent at the same time. Kuroo probably knows that himself and even _exploits_ that fact by putting up a Chemistry tutoring service in the middle of the school year. 120 yen per hour. His patrons are mostly girls – rich girls – in his major that would _kill_ to study with the “cute, straight-A guy in Chem.” Some of those rich girls even give him more than what he charged for, which he happily receives every time to help pay the rent.

“She’s definitely hitting on you,” Akaashi notes.

“I won’t mind, it gives me more money to pay the rent. And I won’t fall for her tricks, Kenma would _kill_ me.”

Akaashi bites back a laugh. Kenma – Kuroo’s boyfriend – definitely would. Especially if Kuroo would find out that he has been secretly spying on some of his tutoring sessions with Akaashi in the university library and if he would find out that his boyfriend is gritting his teeth and clenching his fists every time some girl got a little _too_ close for comfort. There also _have_ been sometimes that Akaashi has to hold back Kenma from pouncing on some of the girls who got a little _too_ flirty with his boyfriend.

“Speaking of money,” Kuroo suddenly says. He fishes out a wad of bills from his wallet and places it on the coffee table.

Akaashi eyes the bills Kuroo had just placed. His brows furrow. He knows what the money is for whenever Kuroo places it on the coffee table. “Kuroo-san, that’s too much.”

“Like I said, my last student was too generous.” Kuroo points at the money on the table. “That’s my share for the rent.”

Akaashi’s brows furrow even more. “I thought we agreed on half.”

“Well, considering that you got chased by that landlady earlier, that’s a sorry and thank you for enduring her wrath. I owe you one.”

When Akaashi doesn’t answer, Kuroo pushes the bills toward him. “Take it, Akaashi.”

Akaashi thinks Kuroo’s just pitying him for not being paid enough at that café that he part-times at and that he’s shouldering three-fourths of the rent because Akaashi can’t even earn enough to shell out his share for half of the rent as promised.

But he also knows Kuroo is stubborn and won’t take no for an answer.

“Uh, thanks Kuroo-san,” he says quietly, as he gathers the bills. He stands from the couch and takes the jar on the nearby shelf labelled “Rent” and deposits the bills there.

“Don’t mention it,” Kuroo calls after Akaashi. The latter looks over at his roommate and smiles a little. “I owe you one, Kuroo-san. For the next payment, I’ll be the one to take care of three-fourths of the rent.”

“No… no, it’s okay.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean? I need to pay you back.”

Kuroo smiles _that_ smile that Akaashi absolutely hates. It’s _that_ smile that seems like a bad omen before every kind of disaster.

“I have a feeling that I need to know more about the neighbor you oh-so-desperately took ‘refuge’ in. Tell me more about them.”

If there’s a possibility that Akaashi’s cheeks would redden more than they would usually do, let’s say it did.

* * *

Three days later, they paid the month’s rent in full.

Kuroo’s the one who went down to the landlady to give the money to her. Normally, it would be Akaashi who’d do it, but Akaashi wouldn’t even move when Kuroo asked him to pay the rent. It’s in these situations that Kuroo would most likely push him out the door and don’t let him in until he’s done what he’s told. Surprisingly, Kuroo had offered to go in his stead.

“It was hilarious! She went from sour-faced to overjoyed when she saw me come down to her office with the payment,” Kuroo tells Akaashi over dinner that night, before he stuffs his mouth with rice. “Man, that old lady must really like money so much that only seeing it makes her forget overdue payments.”

Akaashi smirks in his soup. “She never does that when I go to pay.”

Kuroo’s brows furrow. “Eh? Maybe you always catch her when she’s in a bad, _bad_ mood.”

“The old landlady loves money, sure, but I think it’s because she thinks you’re hot that’s why she’s always happy when you approach her.”

Kuroo suddenly coughs and sputters, rice grains spewing out from his mouth. He slams a fist in his chest and motions to Akaashi with another. The latter immediately stands from his chair and retreats to the kitchen to come back with a glass of water which Kuroo immediately takes from his hand, water spilling from the glass at the sudden action. Akaashi watches as he downs the water to ease his coughing fit.

“You’re evil, Akaashi,” Kuroo finally says after his throat clears. “I could almost die from choking on my food.”

Akaashi nonchalantly saunters to his seat. “What? It’s true. It’s a miracle that you even agreed to pay the rent yourself considering the landlady has her eyes on you. You never do it.”

“It’s payment for showing me that neighbor you absolutely fell in love at first sight with.”

“Kuroo-san, I did not fall for a stranger at first sight,” he corrects. He downs his soup in one gulp and glares at his roommate. “And don’t make me think of what happened yesterday, I thought we agreed that we’d not speak of that again.”

Akaashi groans at the thought of yesterday’s misadventure, where they found themselves with their eyes pressed against the peephole, like wild animals eyeing for the hunt.

It was Kuroo who insisted that he see him for himself after Akaashi told him all about the fiasco that happened with the landlady that concluded with an escape inside a stranger’s aparment. Akaashi didn’t understand he was so adamant – he was just a stranger anyway. But, as established, Kuroo never takes no for an answer.

Akaashi had been the first to pry his eyes away from the peephole after a while. He had leaned against the doorframe and looked at Kuroo, relentless in his search.

“Give it up, Kuroo-san,” he’d said. Kuroo had paid him no mind and even squinted harder at the peephole. A few seconds later, his eyes widened and he pulled Akaashi by the sleeve.

“Is that him?”

Akaashi squinted at the peephole to look. A tall, lanky form came into view. Though unclear, the blond hair was unmistakable.

He blushed. “Yes.”

Kuroo pushed Akaashi away from the peephole so he could have a better look at said neighbor and the latter bumped into the nearby wall with a loud _thud_ that he’d been sure that the neighbors, and even passers-by like Tsukishima, had heard. His brows furrowed at the action and he started to pull Kuroo by the sleeve to save them from future embarrassement. “Okay, that’s enough, you saw him already.”

The latter retaliated, trying to shove Akaashi away to return back to his spot at the peephole. “I just want another look, Akaashi!” he whined.

“Kuroo, stop – “

_Crack._

Kuroo must’ve pushed at the old door a little _too_ hard and they tumbled down on the floor after the door to their apartment came crashing down. There’s a moment of silence before his roommate almost _rolled_ on the floor laughing at the whole fiasco while Akaashi just laid on the floor in dismay and disappointment at the chaos that he went through.

Until he came face-to-face with his neighbor, Tsukishima Kei, who had looked over his shoulder to see what mayhem ensued on the fifth floor. Akaashi sat up from his position on the floor immediately at the sight of his neighbor and dusted himself off like nothing happened. Although, he couldn’t hide the blush on his face when he saw Tsukishima Kei snicker and walk off.

“The neighbor’s pretty cute, though,” Kuroo comments out of the blue (“Though, Kenma’s cuter,” he sighs), pulling Akaashi out of his reminiscing. The latter shakes the embarrassing memory away from his mind and focuses on his meal. “Yeah,” he mumbles.

Kuroo smirks. “’Not falling for a stranger’ my ass.”

Akaashi’s cheeks heat up. “Shut up, Kuroo-san. You can’t tell me that I am ‘falling’ for a stranger just because I agreed to your comment that he’s cute.”

“Well,” he huffs. “My argument is perfectly valid. I saw with my own eyes that _your_ eyes went all starry and soft when you said, and I quote,” He clears his throat and tries to imitate the stoic expression that Akaashi always wears. “‘Yeah.’”

“That’s the worst impression of myself,” Akaashi groans as Kuroo bursts in his annoying hyena laugh. The former just sighs and carries on with his meal

“Ah yeah, I just remembered something,” Kuroo says as he recovers from his laughing. Akaashi stops eating and cocks an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Bokuto’s coming over.”

Akaashi coughs. He stands quickly from his seat again and runs to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He downs it quickly and breathes slowly, inhale…exhale.

Bokuto-san’s coming? He clenches his hand over the glass he’s holding. He calls over at Kuroo. “When?”

“What?” Kuroo replies from his seat.

“I asked when’s he coming over?”

He hears from the kitchen that Kuroo’s about to answer, but he’s interrupted by a knock on the door. Akaashi freezes. Is that…

“Uh… now?”

 _Oh shit_.

Akaashi quickly sets down his glass and runs to the dining room to get the rest of his dinnerware. Kuroo looks at him, confused.

“Why didn’t you tell me that he’s coming over?!” Akaashi asks his roommate as he dumps what’s left of his food in the wastebin and proceeds to deposit his dinnerware in the sink. He looks back at Kuroo, who’s now leaning on the kitchen wall, still confused. “Do I have to?”

Akaashi ruffles his hair in frustration, “Yes, you have to! It’s Bokuto-san we’re talking about!”

His roommate raises an eyebrow. “What if he doesn’t convince you to join this time?”

Akaashi doesn’t answer and just pushes past Kuroo. His eyes wander frantically as a million thoughts run through his head. All logic and rational thinking are blurred from his mind again, and he can’t think of the next thing to do.

What the next rational thing to do, that Akaashi’s overlooked, is to open the door that Bokuto’s been knocking on for the last five minutes and just talk and have drinks with him until he brings up the topic he’s been avoiding to talk about. Or lock himself in his room until Bokuto leaves when he _does_ bring up the topic for the first five minutes of seeing each other.

But, this is another situation where Akaashi’s thinking is wonky and all known logic and rationality is thrown out of the window.

 _The window_.

An epiphany strikes him as he looks at the large glass window leading to the balcony. He makes a run for it. He quickly pushes open the glass doors and steps out into the cool evening wind.

The apartment’s light next door is still open. He clenches his teeth and shuts his eyes. He grips at the railing.

The balcony next door is near enough to jump in, right?

Akaashi’s mid-climb at the balcony railing when Kuroo yells at him from the balcony door. “Akaashi, what the hell, get down!”

Kuroo starts to pull him off the railing. “Come on, Akaashi, don’t tell me you’re going to jump off the building just because your best friend is trying to recruit you on the college volleyball team.”

“I’m not going to jump off, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi reassures as he tries to push himself off from Kuroo. “Please let me go now.”

He manages to wrench himself out of his roommate’s vice-like grip and he turns back at him, the latter wide-eyed and disheveled. “If you need me, I’ll be next door. Text me if he’s gone.”

“Wha – “

He doesn’t hear the rest of Kuroo’s sentence when he leaps. He squeezes his eyes shut. He prays to all the known gods and deities in the heavens that his calculations are correct and he lands alive in the balcony next door.

“What the hell?”

Akaashi had never known angels can mention hell. Is he in heaven, for that matter? Or is he in hell? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to know. Is he dead? Or alive?

The only way to know is to open his eyes.

And Akaashi feels like he’s died and went to heaven, and this honey-eyed angel is welcoming him to paradise. Or perhaps it’s otherwise, since the honey-eyed angel, or whatever entity this may be, is glaring at him. Perhaps, this is how angels greet new souls in heaven?

“So? What? Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to explain what the hell you are doing in my balcony?”

That seems to knock some sense into Akaashi and he scrambles to his feet and stares up at the honey-colored eyes of the angel personified as his neighbor, Tsukishima Kei. He realizes he’s alive, and he’s in neither heaven nor hell, but in the balcony in the apartment next to his. 

He opens his mouth to answer, but a boisterous voice from the balcony next door suddenly interrupts him. _Oh no_. He has to go. He has to go _and fast_.

“No time to explain,” he says quickly, pushing Tsukishima into his own apartment, ignoring the angry retorts of the latter. “Get inside, get inside, _quick_.”

The sliding door of the balcony closes behind them with a soft _thud_ and Akaashi now remembers to breathe.

Tsukishima clears his throat. His hands are on his hips and his eyebrows are raised. So much for calling him an angel. “Now, will you _explain_ what were you doing in my balcony and how you got there?”

Akaashi takes a seat at the nearby sofa, unprompted. He exhales slowly as he invites Tsukishima to sit on his own sofa. “Ah yeah. I almost forgot about that.”

* * *

“So, you mean to tell me that you were in my balcony because you were running away from your best friend your roommate invited over for your apartment for drinks without telling you,” Tsukishima confirms. Akaashi nods.

“Just because he’s recruiting you for the college volleyball team?”

Akaashi nods again. Tsukishima furrows his brows at his neighbor. “You weren’t a least bit scared at the possibility that you might not make it to my balcony when you jumped?”

“Oh, I was definitely scared. Perhaps it was out of sheer luck that I made it.”

Silence. Tsukishima takes a sip from the now-cold coffee that he brewed for the two of them to accompany Akaashi’s story.

“You have a knack for running away,” Tsukishima mumbles in his mug.

“The situations I am in required me to,” Akaashi defends.

“The situations being… not being able to pay rent causing you to get chased down by a mad landlady and an unwillingness to join the volleyball team that your best friend bugs you to join?”

“Yup.”

“Why don’t you just tell him you don’t want to?”

Akaashi sighs. “Knowing him, he’ll probably throw a fit and I’ll be forced to join just to appease him.”

Tsukishima snickers. Akaashi cracks an awkward smile. Then, silence.

Tsukishima’s apartment is clean, Akaashi notes, as his eyes wander around the unfamiliar space. Or, perhaps, minimal is the right word. It’s Akaashi’s first time to take a look at it since he first trespassed (there’s no sugarcoating this word), and it looks nice and neat. There’s not much decoration apart from a framed family picture and another framed picture with of him and his friends on the coffee table. The shelves near the entryway are half-filled with textbooks on Japanese and World History (Perhaps his neighbor is a humanities or social science major?) and, a rather peculiar addition to the simple decoration, plastic dinosaurs sit on top of the shelf. There’s no additional furniture from what he observes, apart from the already available shelves, couch, coffee table and dining set that the apartment has already provided for every unit.

After a few minutes, he realizes that staring at the apartment has gotten a bit uncomfortable for him to dodge the awkwardness of things.

“So, uh… are you in college?” he asks, to fill in the silence.

“Yeah. I’m in Todai, first year History major.”

Akaashi’s nods, before taking his Styrofoam cup from its place on the coffee table. Tsukishima probably didn’t bother buying another mug, possibly because he doesn’t expect any visitors to come any time. He doesn’t mind. He still takes a sip from the now-cold coffee in his disposable cup. “You’re in the same university as I am, huh.” Akaashi wonders why he never sees him around there, but he doesn’t bother asking. “I’m a second-year there. Philosophy major.”

Tsukishima seemed amused. “Philosophy huh? I thought Philosophy majors think more rationally than _that_ ,” he looks and smirks at Akaashi to punctuate the point.

Akaashi snorts. “You don’t look much like a History major yourself, too.”

“Well enlighten me, Mister Philosophy major.”

He eyes the plastic dinosaurs displayed on the shelf near the entryway. He smiles to himself. “I assumed you were maybe in Paleontology or in Archeology.”

Tsukishima follows his gaze and huffs. “I thought you Philosophy majors were taught not to make conclusions based only on your senses.” He adds, “And stop gawking at that, I haven’t fixed that yet.”

“Well, I thought you History majors were taught to…” Akaashi trails off. He doesn’t really know much about the history department to begin with to make a strong argument. He watches from the corner of his eye as Tsukishima bites back a laugh at his silence from his lame attempt to begin a counterargument at his neighbor’s earlier “insult.”

“Remember everything?” Tsukishima helps complete the statement. He smirks at Akaashi who reddens in embarrassment.

“Please don’t – “

“Good thing you fixed your door.”

Akaashi’s eyes widen. “Hey!”

“Serves you right for stalking me,”

“I wasn’t – “

“And tell your rooster roommate to tone down with his laughing, the old lady at the end of the hall thought a wolf broke in. Poor thing was scared to death.”

Akaashi opens his mouth to retaliate but closes it immediately after. He downs his coffee from his Styrofoam cup. “Okay, you win this time.”

“I always do,” Tsukishima says smugly, leaning back on the couch.

“But,” Akaashi begins with a smirk as he sets down his Styrofoam cup on the table. “I think win at making proper coffee.”

His neighbor sits up abruptly and adjusts his glasses. There’s a bit of pink in his cheeks. “I’m just learning how to. Be grateful I even brewed coffee for you.”

Akaashi doesn’t make a comeback this time and silence weighs on them once again. He hates it. He really isn’t good at initiating conversations in awkward silences, but he desperately wants to fill it. Awkward silences are heavy, filled with much tension in the air, especially between two strangers sitting at both ends of the couch with now-empty cups of coffee that they have been sipping at previously in an attempt to stifle the weird tension.

Plus, Akaashi _still_ wants to talk to Tsukishima. You know, get to know him more, to pass time as he hides from his stubborn best friend that’s still drinking with his roommate in his apartment. It’s like killing two birds with one stone.

It seems like the heavens heard his pleas for something to help keep earlier conversations going and he hears Tsukishima speak. Perhaps he hates awkward silences as much as he did. “I’ve never met a Philosophy major before.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, really now?”

“You’re a… rare bunch.”

Akaashi smirks. He takes ‘rare bunch’ as a compliment. “So, you’re curious?”

Tsukishima huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “So, what if I am? What do you even do there?”

“We read about the thoughts of dead, white, cisgender men… that’s a start.”

Akaashi then launches into a full-on crash course on what he’s doing in his major. He tells him the papers he’s been assigned to write about on ethical dilemmas, the lengthy readings they have in each class, the debates they have on class on existentialism and even the oral exams everyone’s nervous about. He’s geeking out about his favorite philosophers and his favorite schools of thought and ranting about the “white men” he hates, especially Descartes (“Seriously, what went into his mind when he said ‘I think therefore I am’? Isn’t he aware he’s spouting nonsense?”). He especially curses his Modern Philosophy professor, who he describes as a “worshipper of Descartes” and who gave him a failing grade when he passed a paper that refuted a Cartesian thought.

And, Tsukishima’s just there, listening to him intently. He lets out a “Really?” or two and curses the Modern Philosophy professor with him (“What an ass,” he mumbles), but most of the time, Akaashi sees him looking at him and nodding.

Something in Akaashi’s chest flutters. He’s the only one that listened to him rant and rave about philosophy, apart from Kuroo and his mother. Bokuto does too, of course, as a best friend, but the conversation will always revert back to convincing him to join the volleyball team.

Tsukishima may be snarky, sure, but he _does_ know how to listen.

It seems like the both of them hate awkward silence so they try to fill it with stories and a bit of banter. Tsukishima gives him a primer on his history course, that’s more like a rant of the lengthy readings required for each class (“Well, what do you expect, it’s history?” Akaashi quips) that quickly turns into complaints of historical figures. “If Alexander wasn’t so ‘The Great,’ I wouldn’t have to memorize every single country he’s conquered and made into an empire,” he rants.

Philosophy and history lessons turn into probes on personal life. Akaashi learns Tsukishima’s from Miyagi and he’s studying in Tokyo “for a change.”

“Don’t you like the landscape there? Seeing hills and fields and mountains seem better than skyscrapers, if you ask me,” Akaashi asks. Tsukishima scoffs at him. “Well, country boys and city boys think differently.”

A nod. “Touché.”

Tsukishima brings up the topic of volleyball one point in their storytelling when he told him that he played volleyball for his high school team in Miyagi as a middle blocker.

“You play volleyball too, right?” Tsukishima asks. Akaashi nods. “What position?”

“Setter,” Akaashi answers. “My best friend, the one I ran away from, was also from the same team. He was the captain and the ace.”

“You must’ve been good enough to be able to set for the ace,” he mumbles to himself. He looks at Akaashi, confused. “Why _don’t_ you want to join?”

Akaashi shrugs. “Eh, for a change.” He plays with the ends of his hair. “And philosophy is mentally exhausting already, I wouldn’t want to fatigue my body too.” He blinks. “Are _you_ on the volleyball team in Todai?”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Same reason as you.”

Akaashi thinks he hasn’t got anything interesting to share that’s much like Tsukishima’s countryside adventures with his best friend and his volleyball team, but he tells him about his misadventures in Tokyo, anyway. Like about that one time his coworker from his part-time job at the café from across the street wrote his phone number on a girl’s cup because his coworker said the girl had “heart eyes” on him the very moment she came up on the counter to order.

Tsukishima stifles a laugh. “Did she call or text you?”

“Yeah, she texted me a ‘hello.’”

“Did you reply?”

“I wouldn’t want to lead her on into thinking that this would be the start of a ‘coffee shop romance’ so I blocked her number.”

This time, Tsukishima couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Tsukishima laughing is an immaculate sight to see and a glorious sound to hear, Akaashi thinks. His honey eyes delightfully crinkle at the corners, his lips are beautifully tugged upwards like a bright crescent moon against the night horizon and his mouth reverberates what seems to be the most angelic sound in the known universe. Tsukishima lifts a hand to cover his smiling mouth and all Akaashi wants is to gently push that hand aside from his face so that he can have a full view of the heavenly sight before him. He’s sure now that this bespectacled, honey-eyed, blond, six-foot-tall being before him is an angel and he’s now welcomed into heaven by laughter that sounds like an angel’s chorus.

And he laughs with the angel. He laughs until the whole room is filled with happiness and laughter and he feels that he belongs in this new and unfamiliar space.

After a few minutes, the laughter dies down and both of them hold their gazes with each other for a while. It’s like a cliché romantic comedy where both the main character and the lead, after a moment of intense joy, look into each other’s eyes and realize that this happiness is only possible because the two of them are brought together by whatever force of the universe. Akaashi is not one to believe in destiny; he can’t bring himself to think that humans are living in the illusion of free will all while being predestined by the workings of the universe to experience a certain encounter or situate themselves in a certain event.

This… this encounter makes him think otherwise.

Much to Akaashi’s dismay, Tsukishima is the first to look away, with the back of his hand pressed against his face in an attempt to hide his pinkened cheeks. He deflates. He doesn’t want him to look away or hide from him, but he does.

Although, there’s a small compensation to Akaashi’s disappointment with the whole situation not meeting his cliché romcom expectations. It’s faint, but he thinks he heard Tsukishima mumble something about “being cute.” He doesn’t know what it was, but it made his heart flutter.

Before he could ask him to repeat what he said, his phone vibrates in his pocket, interrupting him. He mumbles a small ‘excuse me’ before digging in his jeans pocket for his phone.

It lights up with two texts from Kuroo.

 **Kuroo-san:** he went home

 **Kuroo-san:** u can come back now

It’s only then that he sees the time after he’s read his roommate’s messages. 23:57. How long has he been there? It seemed as if it was only a few minutes ago when he jumped into Tsukishima’s balcony.

He’s reluctant to stand from the sofa, but he shakily holds the armrest of the sofa to steady himself and slowly stand up. Tsukishima looks up at him in confusion and… sadness?

Akaashi jerks his thumb behind him awkwardly. “I’m… gonna go… my friend already… uh… left.”

Tsukishima nods and moves to stand. “Okay.”

Akaashi feels like he saw a glint of something in his honey eyes. It looks something like… disappointment? He shakes the thought of it immediately though. Maybe it was just a trick of the light.

Both of them shuffle awkwardly to the door. And they both just stand there. Again, with the awkward silence.

“Well then…” Akaashi mumbles, to fill the awkward silence they both can’t stand.

“Well…” Tsukishima replies.

A hand on the doorknob means there’s no turning back. A possible ending to the last encounter they would ever have, unless anything extraordinary would happen again that would blur all rationality and logic Akaashi has and make him do the next irrational thing that would possibly bring both of them together.

Akaashi makes a mental note to restructure his argument on destiny because of everything that’s happening to him lately. But, no arguments must be restructured now. Not yet.

He’s reminded of that when his phone vibrates again in his pocket. He excuses himself and opens it to another message from Kuroo.

 **Kuroo-san:** hey where are u

 **Kuroo-san:** r u getting laid to ur cute neighbor

Akaashi reddens and quickly pockets his phone. “Kuroo’s probably drunk right now,” he reasons out to no one in particular. Tsukishima nods, nonetheless.

Final words, final words.

“Thanks… for letting me stay,” Akaashi mumbles.

“Did you mean, escape from your best friend?”

Akaashi laughs. Perhaps Tsukishima is not really Tsukishima without sliding a snarky remark or two. “Yeah,” he says. “Exactly what you said.”

Tsukishima smirks at him. “Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? You just came and jumped on my balcony unplanned.”

“But, you had a choice to kick me out and leave me in misery to face my best friend persuade me endlessly to join the volleyball team instead of letting me in, but you still let me stay.”

Honey eyes widen and pale cheeks redden. Akaashi could guess his face is also the same as his neighbor’s after he realized what he said.

Instant regret settles in him. Without a second thought, Akaashi clasps his hand over the door knob almost instantly. “Good night, neighbor,” he says without looking over at Tsukishima. He’s out the door before his neighbor had the chance of saying it back. He watches as the door clicks into place in the doorframe before he even walks the few steps to his own apartment.

A tipsy Kuroo sprawled out on the couch greets him with a “So, did you get laid?” as he opens the door to their shared apartment. Akaashi pays him and his drunk questions no mind as he removes his socks and starts to head to his bedroom.

There’s a bit of compassion in Akaashi’s heart at the sight of his intoxicated roommate that makes him stop from entering his room. One look and a sigh at the sight of his roommate on the couch – tousled hair, half-lidded eyes, alcohol-reddened cheeks and body half-lying, half-falling on the couch with an array of beer cans scattered all over the living room – and he proceeds to set down a glass of water on the coffee table for his hangover, fix his awkward position on the couch and cover him with a blanket that he retrieved from his roommate’s bedroom.

Kuroo groans a “thanks” at him once he’s done. Akaashi smacks his roommate on his forehead before he retires to his room. “Go to sleep or Kozume’s going to scold you again for drinking too much,” is Akaashi’s version of a “You’re welcome.”

A few steps away from his room, Kuroo calls to him again with the last of his drunken strength. “Did you get laid?”

Akaashi’s answer is a slam of his bedroom door. At last, silence.

Temporary solitude begins in silence and happens a few hours before the break of dawn.

In true romantic comedy fashion, he flops down onto his bed like a giddy teenager, not caring if he hasn’t changed his clothes to more comfortable ones for sleeping. It’s only then when his chest presses against the mattress that he realizes that his heart is beating fast against his chest for the past few minutes or so since he left Tsukishima’s apartment.

What is this feeling? Akaashi contemplates on the question as he lays on the bed, well aware of his breathing and the beating of his heart. It’s illogical to call it love, Akaashi thinks, since it’s only their second encounter with each other. Love at first sight logically does not exist. Perhaps one can call this infatuation. Or happiness. Or a longing for someone who understands him the most.

Akaashi is uncertain with everything rushing to him all at once. But one thing is certain, regardless if this feeling may be love or not or something else waiting to blossom.

He wants to see him again.

* * *

“Ow, my head.”

Akaashi looks over at the couch from where’s he’s standing in the kitchen to see his roommate sit up slowly from where he spent the night. His already disheveled hair is more disheveled than usual, as it sticks up in weird places. The side of his mouth have streaks of drool. His roommate rubs at his head as he groans.

“Morning,” Akaashi greets. He points at the coffee table. “There’s water and medicine for your hangover. Drink it and eat breakfast.”

“Thanks, Akaashi.” Kuroo groans again as he massages his head. “Ah, geez, I shouldn’t have drunk too much.”

“Your fault for inviting over Bokuto-san,” he chastises. Bokuto has a reputation for having a high tolerance. Perhaps it comes from his high energy. Then again, Bokuto has a knack of being the best in everything he does.

Kuroo downs the water and the pills Akaashi has given him and sighs. “He’s disappointed that you weren’t here last night, y’know.”

“Did he pull off one of his temper tantrums?”

“He did, but appeased it by drinking. Good thing the beer was there – I wouldn’t have been able to calm him down otherwise.” Kuroo stands from the couch and saunters over to the dining table to sit. He places his chin in his hands and sighs. “Come to think of it, he didn’t mention anything about the volleyball team like always. Perhaps he did want to see his best friend after so long.”

Akaashi hums in thought. His escape last night must’ve been an overreaction. Or maybe it was his instincts kicking in to make him take caution. He sits at his usual seat at the dining table, still in thought. After much contemplation, he decides. “I’m calling him later to say sorry.”

“You do that,” Kuroo says. He stands and shuffles to the kitchen. After a while, he announces, “There’s no creamer left, ‘Kaashi.”

“Ah I forgot to go to the store yesterday, Kuroo-san. Sorry ‘bout that, I’ll go later.”

“That’s fine,” he reassures. He walks lazily out of the kitchen and starts for the door. “I’m gonna go and ask from the neighbors.”

_The neighbors?_

Akaashi suddenly stands and his dining chair scrapes across the floor. “I’ll go!” His voice comes out louder than usual, and upon realization, he reddens.

“Overly enthusiastic, are you?” Kuroo notes. His lips pull up into a knowing smirk and he shrugs. “Alright, you go. Thanks, ‘Kaashi!”

* * *

And now, Akaashi doesn’t know what to do now that he’s here.

It’d be fine. It’s just like when he asked for the Wi-Fi password of the sweet lady next door so that he could pass his paper. Or when his mail got mixed up with the guy living in the unit adjacent to theirs. Or when he gave a few pastries to the family two doors down as a peace offering because Kuroo came home too drunk to know which apartment he’s knocking on.

Yes, it’d be fine. He’s just going to ask for creamer. Nothing special.

He inhales and brings his knuckles up to the door. He knocks, once, twice and waits. He rocks on his heels as he does and hums a bit to calm his nerves.

After a while, the door opens and he’s greeted with crossed arms and a smirk. “Yes?”

“Hey neighbor,” Akaashi cheekily says, trying to seem confident so that wouldn’t be distracted by that goddamn _smirk_.

Tsukishima leans to look left and right at the hallway. “Not being chased down today?”

“Not today,” Akaashi replies proudly. “We paid already.”

“Well, what is it today?” Tsukishima places his hands on his hips and his smirk widens. “Best friend trying to recruit you again in the volleyball team? The girl from the café trying to get revenge from you ghosting her? Modern Philosophy professor trying to convince you to be a Cartesian?”

The examples are bizarre at best, but it’s possible. He smiles at the thought that Tsukishima remembered every weird story he told him. “No, no, not any of that.” He laughs. “I just came here to ask if you have creamer.”

Tsukishima’s eyes widen behind his glasses, but then he playfully shakes his head. “My creamer is too precious to be shared to trespassers.

Really now? Well, two can play it that way.

“That’s too bad,” Akaashi says in a sickly-sweet voice. He crosses his arms and smiles smugly. “I was supposed to give strawberry shortcake to the neighbor that would spare a bit of creamer for this broke college student.”

His neighbor huffs but Akaashi catches his eyes twinkle a bit. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Suit yourself,” Akaashi says. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts to walk away, waving goodbye at his neighbor. “I’m going to find another neighbor generous enough to share some of their creamer that would want to be rewarded with a slice of the best shortcake in Tokyo.”

Without him looking back, he can tell that Tsukishima’s mouth is watering and his eyes are sparkling at the words, “best shortcake in Tokyo.” Any moment now, he’ll…

“Cheeky little…” Akaashi hears his neighbor mumble to himself. He chuckles as he slowly takes steps further and further away from Tsukishima

“Oi, trespasser!”

He stops, looks back and smiles playfully at Tsukishima. “Yes?”

“I…” he clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “…may have a few packets laying around.”

Akaashi smirks and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s nice.”

Tsukishima’s brows furrow. “Then come over here and I’ll give them to you.”

“Ah,” he muses. The things Tsukishima Kei can do because of strawberry shortcake. He saunters over to his neighbor, still smiling. “You’re an angel, neighbor.”

_What?_

Upon realization at what came out of his mouth, he reddens and shifts his gaze from Tsukishima and the floor. Tsukishima, on the other hand, is silent. He inhales deeply and retreats in his apartment. “I’ll get them for you, wait here,” he mutters. Akaashi only nods.

As he waits in front of the ajar door, a million regrets rush through his head as his last words to Tsukishima seem to echo in his mind. Is what he said part the cheeky banter? Is this what they call a Freudian slip? Is it his irrationality taking over his brain again?

“Hey.”

His head snaps up to see Tsukishima, who’s coming out of the door with a few packets of creamer held in his hands. It’s unnecessary, but he gives him a small wave. “Hey, neighbor.”

Tsukishima pushes the packets of creamer into his hands. Akaashi squints to look closely at what his generous neighbor has given to him. The creamer is of an unfamiliar brand. Hazelnut-flavored, too.

“Thanks,” he says. He gives a small smile for added measure.

“Whatever,” his neighbor replies. “Buy your own creamer next time.”

“Will do.” He starts to walk the few steps to his apartment as he waves goodbye. His heart flutters when he feels his neighbor’s eyes are still on him until he enters his own apartment and closes the door behind him.

“I got the creamer,” he announces happily to his roommate as he enters.

* * *

Akaashi finds himself in front of Tsukishima’s door for too many times and too many excuses to count.

The second encounter was three days after the creamer request. This time, it was to give Tsukishima a slice of strawberry shortcake and a slice of blueberry cheesecake from the café he’s working in as “payment” for the creamer.

“I didn’t know you’ll take it seriously,” he says as he takes the box from Akaashi’s hands.

“Well, a promise is a promise.”

Tsukishima smirks. Seriously, is this man really fond of smirking that much? It’s bad enough for Akaashi’s heart for him to do it once, let alone do it a multitude of times.

“Make sure this _is_ the best shortcake in Tokyo, or I’ll never give you creamer again.”

The third, fourth and other succeeding encounters were either requests for small favors or offerings of small gifts, usually occurring every three or four days after each encounter. On some days, it was another request for creamer (Tsukishima probably believes that the shortcake Akaashi gave him is really the best in Tokyo, so he still gives him some of it). Some days, it was sugar. Or any other condiments that two college students need to get by for another day. On other days, it was giving him leftovers from lunch or dinner because Akaashi said he cooked too much and it would be a waste to leave it to spoil.

Today is another Tsukishima Encounter Day.

At Akaashi’s first knock, almost as if Tsukishima has already anticipated it happening (well, who won’t anticipate Akaashi’s routine-like schedule to meet Tsukishima?), the door opens. Before Akaashi could even greet his neighbor a “good evening,” his neighbor cuts off the thought.

“So, what’s it going to be today?” he asks, his arms crossed and his lips in a smug smirk. Akaashi grimaces at the question that almost mocks him for being _too_ obvious of his motives.

“Well,” Akaashi begins, toying with his fingers and averting Tsukishima’s gaze. The request (or excuse) that he wants to say earlier hangs at the edge of his tongue, waiting to be said. “I was… uh… wondering if you have a book on the Renaissance that I can borrow?”

The request was a half-excuse, half-genuine question. He _can_ scan Google or Library Genesis for resources about the Renaissance, but he does want a textbook to read through just to compare content from different sources.

Akaashi looks up at Tsukishima, who has a brow raised in confusion. “Why?”

“Paper,” Akaashi quickly reasons out. “I have a paper in Modern Philosophy.”

“Oh, for that Cartesian asshole?”

The corners of Akaashi’s lips quirk up in amusement. That’s a nice nickname. “Yeah… for that ‘Cartesian asshole.’”

Tsukishima smirks before heading back into his apartment. “Give me a sec.” Akaashi rocks on his heels for a while until Tsukishima reemerges, holding a thick volume of _Renaissance and Reformation._

“Here,” he says, handing the book to Akaashi. “For a second there, I thought you were going to ask me for creamer again.”

Akaashi blinks and lets out a nervous laugh. “Well, we have a packet of it at home… so yeah, no creamer requests for the time being.” He bites his lip. “Thanks for the book, I’ll return it as soon as I finish.”

His neighbor just nods. And then, silence.

Neither of them makes a move to leave and conclude conversation. Akaashi’s feet are still planted on the hallway in front of his neighbor’s apartment. Said neighbor is still standing in his doorway. They have never done this before in previous encounters.

Perhaps their hate for silence has intensified, and both of them speak at the same time now.

“I’m going to go back now.”

“Can we exchange numbers?”

Akaashi is certain that Tsukishima’s expression is the same as his right now – wide eyes, red cheeks, and an unfathomable look that is in between confusion and surprise.

He asked for a book and he’s to repay the favor by giving his neighbor, who he still can’t comprehend to himself if he has a crush on him or he just wanted to be his friend, his _number_.

Why?

“Well,” Tsukishima begins sheepishly, as if he’s heard all the contemplating Akaashi’s doing in his head. “It’s more convenient if you just text me if ever you need creamer again or if you want to give me more food again.”

That seems… logical.

“Okay,” Akaashi nods. He holds out his hand. “Phone?”

Tsukishima obliges, handing over the device to Akaashi. The latter mirrors the gesture, pulling out his own phone and hands it over to his neighbor. He doesn’t miss the way their hands brush slightly in the exchange and he worries if his surprise at the sudden contact is shown in the deepening redness of his cheeks. Nonetheless, he pushes the thought from his head and focuses on typing out his phone number in his neighbor’s contact.

He mulls over a bit at the contact name. He _can_ type out his name just like any other person would do, but…

“Trespasser?” Tsukishima tries and fails to hide his amusement when the exchange is over and done and he reads the contact name of his newly acquired number. “Well, that’s what I really am since the day we met, right?” Akaashi defends. He reads the contact name on Tsukishima’s number and smirks. “And you don’t even have that normal of a contact name, ‘Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer.’”

“At least I didn’t degrade myself.”

“But who writes themselves a contact name _that_ long?”

For a split second, all banter stops as they look at each other’s eyes and _laugh_. The whole fifth floor hallway becomes filled with happiness and laughter from two people in a scene akin to a romantic comedy.

Akaashi doesn’t want this to end. If he would give the entire universe his whole life just to stay and laugh and be happy with Tsukishima forever in this fifth-floor hallway, he will. Sadly, the universe and time cannot be bribed and moves on unconditionally, so all good things logically end. Temporarily. The laughter fades eventually and the hallway falls silent again.

“Thanks again for the book,” Akaashi says, out of breath after all the laughter. He jerks his thumb toward his apartment. “I’ll go now. I have to write my paper.”

“Good luck on that. Good night.”

He smiles at the thought of Tsukishima wishing him a genuine good luck without any hint of sarcasm. “Thanks. Good night.”

His smile is still there when his neighbor finally retreats back to his own apartment and the door settles into the doorframe with a small click. With a small sigh, he walks back the few steps to his apartment with a light spring in his step.

* * *

Kuroo’s smirking at him the very moment he opens the door.

His eyebrow raises at his roommate as he slowly takes off his shoes. Kuroo’s knowing looks doesn’t faze, his smirk only grows wider and more sinister. He hates that look on him.

“Why are you looking at me like that for?” he asks as he shuffles in their shared apartment.

Kuroo shrugs and sinks into the couch he’s sitting on. He covers his face with his phone. “No reason.”

Akaashi’s not satisfied with the answer. “Kuroo-san – “

“I noticed you’re acting and _looking_ rather strange lately,” Kuroo says, sitting up properly in the couch this time. He invites Akaashi to sit but the latter declines, opting stay at where he’s standing. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” Akaashi fibs. He looks away from Kuroo and finds the book in his hands more interesting than looking at his roommate. He toys a bit with the corner of the book.

Kuroo hums, in a tone that almost questions his simple answer. Akaashi swallows thickly. Something about Kuroo being his roommate for two years made him much like an ‘Akaashi-lie detector’ and he knows he’s not good at lying in the first place.

“You’re always outside,” Kuroo notes.

“I…I told you I was going to borrow something from the neighbor’s.”

“Who?”

Akaashi blinks. His hold on the book in his arms tighten. He’ll never hear the end of it from Kuroo once he tells him that he’s been finding an excuse to see his _cute_ neighbor over and over again for the past few weeks.

There’s silence. Peculiar silence. Akaashi looks up from the book he’s clutching and sees a horrific sight – Kuroo is smiling. A wide, _wide_ smile, one that makes his eyes crinkle and makes all of his teeth show and scrunches his face to the point that one cannot recognize him from afar.

No, this is not a good sight. This is never a good sight for a guy like Kuroo.

“I knew it!” Kuroo shouts in glee, jumping from the couch. Akaashi immediately sets the book down and scurries over to Kuroo to make him calm down. He sets his hands on his roommate’s shoulders and tries to hush him. “Kuroo-san, the neighbors might hear you!” Akaashi whisper-shouts at his howling roommate. He looks left and right like someone’s watching both of them, even though he’s aware that they’re the only people in the apartment.

“That’s good that they can hear me! So that your neighbor would know that you have a huge crush on him!”

Akaashi’s eyes widen and he slaps a hand over Kuroo’s mouth to muffle his shouting. His gaze shifts to the wall, the wall that he shares with the apartment – Tsukishima’s apartment – next door. Are the walls of each unit thick enough? Can he hear what his boisterous roommate is saying?

The latter only laughs at him as his roommate tries to quiet him down. “Kuroo-san, _please_ quiet down,” he pleads.

Kuroo pulls Akaashi’s hand away from his mouth and laughs his annoying hyena-like guffaw. “Okay, okay,” he surrenders. Akaashi glares at him despite the display of joy his roommate is showing him.

He thinks of what Kuroo’s said earlier. A crush? On his neighbor? He… can’t have a crush. He just wanted to be friends with him, that’s all. Right?

The look on Kuroo says otherwise.

“You’ve got it bad for our tall, blond and handsome neighbor.”

“Kuroo-san… I don’t – I just want to be friends with him.”

“Akaashi, I know smitten and head-over-heels in love with the cute neighbor next door looks like. No, you don’t want to be friends with him – “

“Kuroo-san, I _do_ – “

“You want this _connection_ you’re forging to be… something more.”

This time, Akaashi doesn’t speak. Instead, he rocks on his heels and looks at everywhere but the eyes of his roommate. Everything is rushing through him now and there’s a million thoughts racing inside his head and he just can’t _think_ straight. It’s in this state of mind that all logic and rationality is blurred and he can’t think of the next logical thing to do.

But, surprisingly, he does the next logical thing to do. He doesn’t say another word as he picks up the book he borrowed from Tsukishima and shuffles quietly to his room. He shoots a glance at his roommate, whose eyes are following his every move albeit dumbstruck at the sudden silence of his companion.

“I’m going to write my paper, Kuroo-san. Please don’t bother me from this time on.”

The door clicks softly behind him as he finally flees to the comfort of his room. Temporary solace must start now, he thinks.

But it never comes.

* * *

Akaashi’s one hundred words in a paper that requires him to write two thousand. And it’s been three hours. He curses for a million times in his head, curses directed sometimes at his Cartesian asshole of a professor and mostly at himself because of his mind that’s drifting to and from the Renaissance and stupid Descartes and those bright, warm honey eyes that seem to invade his thoughts every now and then.

Ah, fuck.

Looking at the few words in his document doesn’t help. Flooding his brain with more philosophy journals about modern philosophy doesn’t help too. Staring at the textbook he borrowed and hyperfixating on Tsukishima’s small and neat handwriting on the margins for sidenotes _definitely_ doesn’t help.

Ah, fuck.

It’s times like these when he’s writing a paper that he has to take a break. Maybe take a walk or brew coffee or stare into the void and wait for the void to stare back (he just had to make that Nietzsche reference.) But he can’t even bring himself to move his legs for even a fraction of an inch on his bed. He’s frozen. He can’t even do anything. He just… stops… and stares… and thinks… of gold and honey and –

Phone pings, Akaashi jolts. Small screen lights up and shows something that he doesn’t expect to see at this time of the night.

A text message.

Akaashi moves his limbs for the first time in three hours to reach for his phone that’s at the far end of his bed. It takes time for him to make out the words on the screen – he’s been staring at words for the past three hours, he _hates_ looking at words now – and when he does comprehend them, he almost drops his phone.

 **Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** hey

 **Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** hows the paper going

 **Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:**??

Ah fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

He can lie. He can lie and say it’s going great, largely because of the book Tsukishima lent him that he can justify to his neighbor and to himself that he didn’t just come over to borrow a book just for an excuse to see him.

 _Or_ he could tell the truth and say, the paper’s not doing okay because he’s a thousand and nine hundred words short in his paper and his brain only functioned for thirty minutes out of the three hours he sat with his laptop because for the past two and a half hours his mind was doing a back and forth on shitty Descartes and those goddamn honey golden eyes of his that he can’t get rid of to preserve sanity. He can tell the truth and say, “Fuck you, Tsukishima Kei, tall, blond, handsome neighbor extraordinaire… I can’t finish the paper because instead of thinking of stupid Descartes even though I don’t really want to… I keep thinking of you!”

Or he can text him the next logical thing.

‘idk’

Whether Akaashi’s brain is too fried or not to construct a proper response, he doesn’t know. His fingers just moved slowly to type the three letters on his keyboard and sent it without even thinking. There’s no pang of regret, so it looks like it’s better than the initial possible responses he’s constructed out of his overthinking.

His phone pings again and he squints at the screen.

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** you sound like descartes

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** like when he doubted his existence

He scoffs. How dare he compare him to Descartes!

**Trespasser:** how dare you

**Trespasser:** take that back

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** never

**Trespasser:** i hate you

Akaashi abandons his laptop and sinks under the covers like a giddy teenager in a romantic comedy, repeatedly turning the screen on and off as if that would summon a reply from Tsukishima. Surely enough, after three repetitions of the action, his phone pings again.

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** sure

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** give it a few days

 **Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** and then you will knock at my door again to ask for creamer or for another textbook to use for a paper

**Trespasser:** of course i will

Akaashi’s fingers type out a ‘because’ and it’s at this moment he comes to his senses and looks at what he’s about to type for the first time in two and a half hours. ‘Because’ what? Because Tsukishima’s creamer is too good and he wants more of it but can’t buy any of it because it’s too expensive so he goes and asks for some occasionally? Because he thinks Tsukishima’s textbooks are better references than the old volumes in the library and he wouldn’t come face to face with the college librarian who’s too strict with the borrowing period that always makes him pay the absurd overdue fees? Because he wants to find different excuses to see him again?

Because he likes him?

Ah, fuck.

At the same time Akaashi deletes the ‘because’ on his text box, a text bubble appears on his screen.

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** you didnt answer my question

An eyebrow raises.

**Trespasser:** what question

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** i asked how your paper was

**Trespasser:** i already answered that

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** idk is not a good answer

Touché, Akaashi thinks. He types out an answer quickly and presses ‘send.’

**Trespasser:** why dont we meet to see for yourself how its going

Ah, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Akaashi regrets sending it a split-second after the message bubble on his side of the conversation pops up. He resists the urge to throw the phone at the wall so it’d break and he’ll never read Tsukishima’s answer to his risky, not-well-logically-thought-of text and he’ll go about his life, possibly in hiding.

But he’s too broke to replace a phone thrown at the wall in frustration. Besides, the damage has been done. The message has been sent. No way to delete it now.

He just has to wait for an answer.

Risky texts have a knack for making people a bit jumpy, and Akaashi’s no exception. His phone pings seconds after and he almost lets go of his phone, only to see that the notification is from a classmate asking him if he’s done with the paper in Modern Philosophy. ‘Nope’ he texts back quickly, before quickly placing his phone on the mattress, screen side down. 

His phone pings again a few minutes and he jumps in seat. A shaky hand slowly reaches for the device.

Inhale, exhale.

The phone is turned over and the screen is turned on. There’s a single notification bubble with a single message displayed on the screen.

 **Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** ok

Oh my god.

Inhale, exhale.

**Trespasser:** ill be at the balcony

_Send._

Akaashi never thought he could gather his things and run as fast as he did out of a room like that time when he left the lecture hall after a particularly boring discussion on Logic.

He was wrong.

* * *

Akaashi’s still panting when Tsukishima comes out of his apartment.

“What happened to you?” Tsukishima yells at him from his own balcony. Akaashi doesn’t answer. He’s still catching his breath. He collapses into a heap on the floor next to the balcony railing that’s near Tsukishima’s. His neighbor does the same, settling in the corner and leaning against the railing.

Once Akaashi’s regained his breathing, he looks over at Tsukishima, who’s watching him intently between the rails of his balcony. He cracks a small smile at him and waves. “Hey, neighbor.”

“Pft,” Tsukishima snickers. “Hey, trespasser.”

Akaashi’s brows furrow. “I didn’t trespass!” His hands shoot all over the place, pointing at random directions. “Look. I’m here in my own balcony!”

“To be frank, when you told me that you’ll be at the balcony, I thought you’d jump into mine again.”

“I considered doing that, but I have a laptop I can’t afford to lose if ever I miscalculate the jump.”

Tsukishima smirks. One of his hands juts through the railings and points at him. “You thought of your laptop first than your life if ever you miscalculate the jump? I never thought you were a nihilist.”

“Well,” Akaashi begins as he opens the lid of his laptop. “It’s only the same outcome either which one falls when the I miscalculate the jump. I lose the laptop with my paper due tomorrow for that Cartesian asshole and I survive, death. The laptop lands safely on the balcony but I don’t, death.”

“Is it the same outcome as the first two possibilities if you don’t finish the paper tonight in the safety of your own balcony?”

Akaashi grins. He shows Tsukishima his laptop screen with words probably too far to read for the latter, considering he’s a few feet away from him, but he doesn’t consider that. He does that unnecessary action only for a dramatic flair to adorn the next few words he’s about to say. “I’m only at one hundred of a minimum of two thousand words required for my paper that I’ve been staring at for the past three hours and I only have…” He trails off. “What time is it?” he asks Tsukishima. His neighbor looks at his watch and announces, “Ten-thirty.”

A chuckle. “I only have an hour and thirty minutes. An hour and thirty minutes to turn it in.” A smile. He places the laptop down on the balcony floor and muses, “Yes, the present scenario has the same outcome as the first two.”

There’s a small giggle from the balcony beside him. That turns into a chuckle. Then, a full-blown burst of laughter that almost echoes into the night.

Tsukishima’s laughter is contagious. He finds himself laughing alongside him again, much like their every encounter when one of them laughs and the other follows, registering a cacophony of symphonies that Akaashi considers to be very near to what pure happiness sound like, if happiness had produced any sound.

He’s reminded of that encounter that night he jumped into Tsukishima’s balcony. The first time he heard Tsukishima laugh because of a story about the girl his co-worker from the café set him up with. For a moment, he feels like he’s in heaven again, and they’re the only two beings left in the tangible universe. For a moment, he feels immeasurable happiness. Is this what Aristotle means by Eudaimonia? Or what it feels when destiny is realized and fulfilled? Or what main characters from romantic comedies feel when they feel such intense joy from the realization that the lead is the only missing piece to their otherwise futile and mundane life?

Perhaps. Almost everything’s still uncertain at this point in Akaashi’s mind.

Almost. There’s one thing that Akaashi’s certain of.

He wants to stay with Tsukishima as long as he can.

So he does. Not minding if he put his laptop aside despite bringing it with him. Not minding if his Cartesian asshole professor fails him if he doesn’t pass the paper on time. Everything other than this moment is absurd at this point. Nothing matters now except the two people holding a conversation across their balconies in the middle of the night. Nothing matters now except the stories they exchange and the laughter they once again let echo into the night. Nothing matters now except Tsukishima – him and his honey golden eyes that seem to glow in the darkness of the night like the moon.

They say their good nights when they both decided that they have no more stories to share and it’s high time that they sleep. A small wave and a smile later, Akaashi’s back in his own apartment, clutching his laptop close to his chest as he tries to calm the beating of his heart.

He catches a glimpse of the clock. He then realizes two things.

One, he missed the deadline of his paper for a full hour. Two, he doesn’t care about the damn paper anymore and desperately _has_ to tell Kuroo something.

He stands in front of his roommate’s bedroom and knocks. It takes Kuroo a while to answer, but when he does, he’s a rumpled mess – hair messier than usual, eyes half-open and pajamas wrinkled. Akaashi regrets knocking at his door at this time of the night. It _could_ wait until morning.

“Ah, sorry, I just – “

Kuroo groans. He’s cranky when someone wakes him up in the middle of sleeping. Then again, anyone would be. “Say it, already. Don’t make me think I wasted my time waking up for you at this time of the night.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Akaashi mumbles, as he twiddles with his fingers. He takes a sharp breath in then exhales slowly through his nose. “You’re right.”

Perhaps his roommate doesn’t have that much comprehension yet considering he was forcefully awakened in the middle of the night. “Fuck, Akaashi, I know I’m always right but please provide context.”

“I think I’m in love with our neighbor.”

That’s when Kuroo jolts fully awake. His half-open eyes suddenly widen. He takes Akaashi by the shoulders and shakes him. “I _knew_ it! Finally!”

Akaashi smiles to himself and makes no point to stop Kuroo’s shouts of glee.

_Yeah. Finally._

* * *

Epiphanies should change persons, but for Akaashi, the effect was the opposite. His days and routines seem to have reverted back to his days and routines before he trespassed into the unit next to his and met the very subject of his epiphany. He wakes, eats breakfast, goes to school, goes to work and back home again. No detours. No disruptions.

It’s really neither good or bad. Just average. Just mundane. Akaashi doesn’t particularly like the mundane, but he settles for it. There have been too many things running in his mind lately and he has to take a breather.

He’s well aware that Kuroo’s noticed the change in his behavior; he’s too obvious with his discomfort of how Akaashi’s acting for the past few days. Like now.

“There’s no more creamer,” Kuroo announces from the kitchen one morning. Akaashi’s eyebrows raise. _That’s weird._

“Check in the cupboard,” Akaashi tells him as he chews on his toast. “I’m sure I bought a bag of it yesterday.”

He hears the cupboard door open and close almost immediately. There’s a low groan. Then a slow padding of socked feet, followed by a scraping of chair’s legs on the wooden floor. There’s a momentary silence before he hears Kuroo speak. “You okay?”

Akaashi swallows the piece of toast he’s been chewing before he answers. “Yeah.”

“Huh,” Kuroo’s eyebrows raise, skeptical. “Really?”

“Yes, Kuroo-san,” he reassures. He eats up the remains of his toast and dusts off his hands before standing up from the dining table quickly to go to the kitchen.

Kuroo’s a stubborn man, Akaashi has known that for the past two years he’s shared an apartment with him. So, when Kuroo follows him to the kitchen, it came as no surprise. He just wished that he wasn’t stubborn _now_.

“You’re a bad liar, Akaashi,” he says as he stands in front of Akaashi with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He scowls at him, as if that would push him on to tell the truth.

“I’m not,” Akaashi defends. He sighs. “And please stop blocking the way, Kuroo-san.”

“Not until you tell the truth.”

“I _am_ telling the truth.”

Kuroo’s scowl deepens. “Akaashi – “

“Alright,” Akaashi sighs. There’s no way he could win over Kuroo’s stubbornness. His gaze drops to the floor. His next words are mumbles. “I’m not okay.”

A warm hand is on his shoulder and he looks up at his roommate whose scowl relaxes and gaze softens. “I thought so.”

Akaashi cracks a smile. “I’m a bad liar, aren’t I?”

His roommate ruffles his hair but, no matter how badly he hates the action, he doesn’t care at this point. “You are. Now, tell me, what’s up with you?”

Akaashi doesn’t answer. Akaashi _can’t_ answer. There’s so much thoughts running in his mind and everything’s muddled and unclear and he can’t understand it himself. He could tell Kuroo that everything’s wrong for the past few days, but “everything” doesn’t seem to be an answer could seem to satisfy his roommate, or even himself for that matter.

Kuroo puts the words in his mouth. “Is it about _him_?”

Akaashi suddenly realizes “everything” takes on the persona of Tsukishima Kei.

He nods to answer Kuroo’s question.

For days after that encounter on the balcony and that enlightening epiphany that he had, it’s the first time Akaashi ever thought so long about what to do. So, he already admitted to himself that he’s in love with his neighbor, now what? What was he supposed to do? Would he pretend nothing clicked into him that night and just approach him as usual to give pastries and ask for creamer and just wait for him to suddenly do a Freudian slip to admit to him that he’s in love with him? Or would he arrange a nice dinner date and, in the spur of the moment, confess his feelings? Or do away with the corny confession of love and just say it bluntly and hope for the best? Or just never admit it to him at all and just stay as friends?

Normally, Akaashi would be able to decide on matters like these in a snap. He’s fond of making snappy decisions, and although some of them may be illogical, that would eventually yield a good outcome.

But this… this is not just any normal situation. It’s been _days_ since he had that epiphany, and it’s been _days_ since the internal turmoil brewed in him.

And that led him to this…

“A hot mess,” Kuroo mumbles under his breath. “You’re a hot mess because of our equally hot neighbor, Akaashi Keiji.”

Akaashi’s cheeks warm. “Well, I wouldn’t call him _hot_ … just… cute… I think.”

“Time and time again you’ve proved that you’re a bad liar, Akaashi.” Kuroo clicks his tongue and shakes his head. His cheeks redden more at his roommate’s comment. “Anyway, Akaashi, I think that you should look at the whole situation logically.”

Akaashi opens his mouth to retort, but Kuroo cuts him off. “Philosophy major or not, you should be able to look at situations in a logical light. This is not as simple as deciding to run away from the landlady, or as weird as deciding to escape the apartment through the balcony since your best friend that’s bugging you to join the volleyball team came over because your roommate invited him.” He bites back a laugh as Kuroo’s hyper-specific examples. Kuroo does too, but his tone turns serious after he clears his throat. “These are your feelings that we’re talking about.”

What Kuroo said somehow cleared something in his mind. In scenarios like this (in romantic comedies or otherwise), the logical aftermath having a romantic epiphany is acting upon that epiphany to make a certain outcome happen. Certain outcome being, the possibility of Akaashi having his feelings reciprocated or rejected by that cute neighbor next door.

Of course, Akaashi, in all of the logical dilemmas he’s encountered, he’s never picked the logical decision.

“So?”

“Look,” Akaashi begins. A heavy weight settles in his chest. “I’m… scared.”

Akaashi suddenly understands his hesitation to take the next step now. Nothing scares Akaashi more than the fear of the unknown. And this unknown is Tsukishima’s response to what he’s been wanting to admit to him ever since he realized it.

Kuroo doesn’t, though. “You ran away from our landlady and jumped from our balcony to a balcony next door, and now you tell me you’re scared of being rejected?”

“It’s not – “ He stops himself suddenly. He inhales and lets out a long exhale. “Yeah.”

It seems that Kuroo does understand it now and he gives Akaashi’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Here’s a piece of advice. Sometimes the most logical decisions have risks and deciding for or against something have risks in themselves.” He gives him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s up to you.”

 _Risks_.

He’s been taking risks all this time. He took the risk of running away from that landlady. He closed his eyes and jumped to safety to avoid his best friend that persistently wanted to recruit him in the volleyball team. He took the risk of asking for something so trivial like creamer in an attempt to see him again and again. And all these risks always took him to the apartment next door.

These illogical, bizarre risks always lead him back to Tsukishima Kei.

Why stop now?

He nods at Kuroo. He turns on his heel and starts to walk out of the dining room. His roommate is left at the entryway to the kitchen, with mouth agape in surprise and confusion. “Where are you going?” he calls out.

Akaashi stops at Kuroo’s call and looks back at him to smile.

“I just realized that I haven’t returned that book I borrowed from my neighbor.”

* * *

**Trespasser:** hey

**Trespasser:** busy rn?

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** no why

**Trespasser:** im gonna return the book

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** ok

**Nice Neighbor Who Gives Creamer:** when are u coming over

**Trespasser:** im outside the door

The gap between him hitting the ‘send’ button and the moment Tsukishima opens the door to his apartment seems like an eternity. In this seemingly long interval of time, Akaashi shifts his weight from one foot to another and grasps the book tightly in his hand. His eyes flicker to the door of his own unit, a last-minute debate whether he should go on with his plan and stay in front of the door or just make a run back to his apartment and forget about returning the book altogether. Before a side wins though, the door in front of him opens.

“Hey, neighbor,” Akaashi greets sheepishly.

Tsukishima gives him a small smile (not a smirk this time, and, oh, how Akaashi wanted to melt then and there) before greeting him back. “Hey, _trespasser_.”

“You never let go of that nickname,” he chuckles. He holds the book up. “I’m going to return this now, thanks for lending it to me.”

Tsukishima takes the book from his hand and Akaashi doesn’t know if the gentle brush of their hands during the exchange was either accidental or intentional. He’d like to think that it was the latter.

Perhaps it is. Because when he looks up at his neighbor, the latter's cheeks are pink.

Then again, it's a crime in logic to assume unless given. That’s the reason why he's here in the first place. To stop assuming and give himself peace of mind.

But why can't he speak now? He's given him the book, and now the next step in his plan is to establish an introduction to what he wants to say and then build it up right to the point where he says…

“Ah, before I forget,” Akaashi hears Tsukishima suddenly mutter. He looks at his neighbor with an eyebrow raised. He hasn’t expected this to happen. “Come again?”

There's silence before Tsukishima speaks again. “Come inside for a sec.”

Albeit confused, Akaashi follows him inside. He smiles as he enters the apartment and revels at the warmth the seems to embrace him as he does. How does something so unfamiliar feel so much like home?

“Stay here,” Tsukishima says as Akaashi steps foot into the living room. He just nods at his weird request and watches as Tsukishima disappears into the kitchen. After a while, he appears again, holding something in his hands.

When he comes closer, Akaashi almost gasps. “This is…”

In Tsukishima’s hands is a large bag of hazelnut creamer that Akaashi recognizes as the brand that’s the same as the one he asks Tsukishima for.

“I think you like it so much that's why you always come over to ask for it, so here,” Tsukishima explains. He clears his throat before shoving the bag into Akaashi’s hands, and for a second the latter forgets to breathe.

Akaashi blinks, confused and a bit grateful for the gesture. “Uh, thanks – “

Tsukishima suddenly blurts out. “I bought it so you wouldn’t ask for creamer every week.”

“Wha –“ He blinks at the sudden outburst. He doesn’t remember asking why he bought it for him, though.

“I was supposed to give it to you last week but you didn’t come, so I assumed you bought creamer by yourself that’s why you didn’t come over.”

“Tsu –“

“Before you go getting the wrong idea, this is _not_ a gift, and you have to pay me back sometime, that creamer doesn’t come in cheap you know, I’m broke as you are – “

“Tsukishima!”

His name echoes in the empty apartment before it fades to nothing. It’s only then that Akaashi has a clear look on his neighbor, whose pale cheeks are slightly tinged red, lips slightly agape and golden eyes wide.

Akaashi’s thoughts are muddled again. Just like the time when the landlady’s running after him. Or that moment where he made that split-second decision to jump into another person’s apartment balcony. He looks back at these weird moments and thinks, like every other decision he’s made in these times, he always takes the risk. Theoretically, every risk he takes brings him closer to Tsukishima Kei. Every hasty, illogical decision, always leads him back to Tsukishima Kei.

Why not take another risk for good measure?

So, he doesn’t think now. Everything he’s planned and practiced in his head for this very moment fades. He lets go of all rationality and logic and allows himself to be lost in the void of his own mind that wills him to move in accordance to what he truly feels without the analysis and the rationalization. Rationality is futile at this moment. Thinking is unimportant. What only matters right now is three things. Him, this apartment and Tsukishima Kei.

He doesn’t think when he makes a step toward him. Or when his hands reach for the soft collar of Tsukishima’s shirt. Or when he slowly pulls him closer.

 _Perhaps, although logically impossible, it seems like the universe slows down_.

Although, in a split-second before the plunge, his mind suddenly fixates on one thing.

 _Tsukishima Kei_.

Perhaps, although logically impossible, the universe just stops when he closes the distance. The vast universe seems to shrink to let go of everything else doesn’t seem to matter and just embraces everything that does. Him, the apartment and Tsukishima Kei.

Ask Akaashi to describe happiness and he’ll tell you that it tastes like strawberries and hazelnut creamer. Happiness is a soft smile against his lips. Happiness is warm cheeks pressed against his hands. Happiness is long fingers carding through his hair. Happiness is a closer embrace, a deeper kiss.

For a moment, it seems like they’re the only two beings left in the tangible universe and all of its forces fill these beings with immeasurable happiness. This is what Aristotle means by Eudaimonia. This is what it feels when destiny is realized and fulfilled. This is what main characters from romantic comedies feel when they feel such intense joy from the realization that the person before them is the only missing piece to their otherwise futile and mundane life.

The very moment his lips touch Tsukishima’s, everything in the universe stops, rearranges and falls into place. Akaashi is now certain. Everything is certain.

Though hesitant, he pulls away from the kiss, but the short distance between their faces remain. His hands are pressed on Tsukishima’s warm, flushed cheeks and he looks at his eyes that softened like molten gold. He feels his hands on his waist, holding him tightly in place.

“ _This_ is supposed to come _after_ I told you what I wanted to say,” he whispers.

Tsukishima smirks, and it takes Akaashi all of his self-restraint to stop every cell in his body from moving to kiss that cocky smirk away. “What did you want to say?”

“I wanted to tell you that…” he begins. His thumb gently caresses his cheek before he whispers the next words.

“I’m in love with you, Tsukishima.”

Tsukishima chuckles and pulls him in for another kiss. In the small moment before their lips fully part, he answers. “I think I’m in love with you, too, Akaashi.”

In his life, Akaashi has encountered millions of questions that he couldn’t find the answer to. He thought studying philosophy would help him find the answers to all these questions that keep bothering him, but it only presented him with more questions and unsure answers.

But here, as the universe closes in on them and embraces what Akaashi thinks that matters most in this moment, he finds the singular answer to all the questions in the world. The answer is in his hands.

The answer is Tsukishima Kei.

There’s an urge to jump out and yell “Eureka!” in the streets upon realizing that the answer to the universe has been found. But, all Akaashi wants, is to be here in this small part of the vast universe, holding in his arms the answer to all life’s questions, and stay.


End file.
